"What loud uproar, bursts from that door?"
COLERIDGE.
{Samuel Taylor Coleridge (English poet, 1772-1834), "Rime of the
Ancient Mariner" (VII) line 592}
WE shall follow the example of the good people of Longbridge, its
party-going inhabitants, at least, and discard, for the moment,
all other topics, in order to give due justice to the expected
ball at the Hubbards. It was understood that this house-warming
was to be the most brilliant affair, of its kind, that had taken
place, in the neighbourhood, within the memory of man. Mrs.
Hilson and Miss Emmeline Hubbard had staked their reputations,
for elegance and fashion, upon the occasion. The list of
invitations was larger than any yet issued at Longbridge, and all
the preparations were on a proportionate scale of grandeur.
About ten days before the eventful evening, Mrs. Hilson and Miss
Emmeline were closeted with their intimate friends, Mrs. Bibbs
and Mrs. Tibbs, engaged in drawing up a plan of operations for
the occasion. Probably the 'city-lady,' as Mrs. Hilson always
called herself, had invited the two friends as counsellors, more
with a view of astonishing them by a display of her own views of
magnificence, than from any idea that their suggestions would be
of importance.
Miss Emmeline was seated, pencil in hand, with several sheets of
paper before her, all ready, to take notes of the directions as
they were settled. Mrs. Bibbs and Mrs. Tibbs were placed on a
sofa; and Mrs. Hilson threw herself into a rocking-chair.
"In the first place, Emmeline," said the 'city-lady,' "we must
have boned turkey: put down boned turkey."
"I thought you were going to make out the list of invitations
first," said the sister.
"Just put down the boned turkey, for that is absolutely
necessary; and then we can run over the names."
Miss Emmeline wrote as she was directed. A long list of names was
then put down; there had already been a private family meeting
upon the subject, at which, after many endeavours of Mrs. Hilson
to unite the two advantages of extreme exclusiveism, and the
largest number of invitations ever heard of at Longbridge, Mr.
Hubbard had decided the matter by insisting that his daughters
should ask every person who had ever been a guest at their house
before, and all those from whom they themselves had accepted
invitations.
"Don't talk to me of fashionable people, and exclusives and
inclusives--I choose to have all my old neighbours, do you hear,
girls, and any one else you please."
This was the only point upon which their father insisted; and as
he left the expense of the arrangements entirely to themselves,
the ladies thought it most prudent not to argue the matter.
Instead, therefore, of aiming at having their party very select,
it was now agreed that it should be very general.
"It will be a regular mob," said Mrs. Hilson, as she finished
reading to her sister scraps of lists of which her lap was full;
"but with so large a visiting circle as ours, it was not to be
avoided, I suppose. Have you put down the boned turkey, Emmeline?
that at least will give to the entertainment an aristocratic
character, at once."
"Yes, to be sure, here it is," said Emmeline, taking up another
sheet of paper. "We must have boned turkey, of course."
Now it so happened that neither Mrs. Bibbs nor Mrs. Tibbs, though
such fascinating ladies, had ever seen, tasted, or heard of boned
turkey before. But, of course, they did not confess such shameful
ignorance. Boned turkey had never yet figured at a party at
Longbridge. We say figured at a party, and we speak advisedly, as
all must know who are aware of the all-important position
occupied at an American party by the refreshments, in the opinion
of both host and guests. The brilliancy of the lights, the
excellence of the music, the wit and gallantry of the gentlemen,
the grace and beauty of the ladies--would be of no avail in
giving fame to a party if the refreshments were not as abundant,
and as varied as possible. It is true these good things are
generally excellent in their way, which is probably one reason
why they receive so much attention. The highest distinction to be
attained in these matters is the introduction of some new
delicacy; next to this, is the honour of being one of the first
to follow so brilliant an example; but, of course, those
unfortunate individuals who have neglected to procure the
favourite dainty of the season, after it has once appeared on
fashionable tables, lose all claim to honourable mention, and
sink beneath notice. In this way, each dish has its day; a year
or two since, Charlotte Russe was indispensable at an
entertainment; last winter Bombes were in high request; and at
the period of the Hubbard house-warming, Boned Turkey had
received the place of honour on the New York supper-tables.
People could neither flirt nor dance, they could talk neither
pure nonsense, nor pure speculation, without the Boned Turkey in
perspective. The fashion had indeed spread so far, that it had at
last reached what Mrs. Hilson generally called her clique.
"Pa thinks we shall have some difficulty in getting boned turkey
at this season; it is rather early; but I am determined to have
it if money can procure it. You know I am very ambitious, Mrs.
Tibbs--I am not easily satisfied."
Mrs. Tibbs, a pretty little woman with light hair, wearing a
fashionable lilac muslin, assented, of course.
"Taking for granted then, that we have the boned turkey, what
shall we put down next?" asked Miss Emmeline. "Terrapin-soup,
pickled-oysters, lobsters, chicken-salad, and anything in the way
of game that can be found in the market; do you think that will
do for the substantial dishes, Mrs. Bibbs?"
Mrs. Bibbs, a pretty little woman with black hair, wearing a
fashionable green muslin, assented, of course.
"I think that will do, Emmeline," said Mrs. Hilson; "a large
supply of each, you know. By-the-bye we must have four dishes of
boned turkey; nothing so mean as to have a small quantity."
Then followed a long list of lighter delicacies; gallons of
ice-cream with every possible variety of flavour; flour and eggs,
cream and sugar, prepared in every way known to New York
confectioners. Kisses and Mottoes were insisted upon. Then came
the fruits, beginning with peaches and grapes, and concluding
with bananas and other tropical productions, until at length even
Mrs. Hilson's "ambition" was thus far satisfied.
{"Kisses and Mottoes" = wrapped candies enclosing short witty
verses or "mottoes"--ancestors of the "fortune cookie"}
"I think our set-out will have quite an aristocratic appearance,
Emmeline; including, of course, the boned turkey. Then we must
have colored candles, they are so much more tasty--all green and
pink. Alonzo will secure the orchestra, the best in the city;
-----'s band. We must have two dressing-rooms in the third story,
one for the gentlemen, one for the ladies--and a little
fainting-room besides; the small east room will do for that--we
can put in it the easy-chair, with the white batiste cover I
brought over from the city, with a pitcher of iced-water, and
restoratives, all ready. It is always best, Mrs. Bibbs, to have a
pretty little fainting-room prepared beforehand--it makes the
thing more complete."
The lady in the green muslin agreed entirely with Mrs. Hilson;
she thought it would be unpardonable not to have a fainting-room.
"The third story will be reserved for the dressing-rooms, the
second entirely devoted to the supper and refreshments, and the
first floor given up to the dancers and promenaders. I declare I
shan't know how to look if we can't procure the boned turkey."
The lady in the lilac muslin agreed that when everything else was
so genteel, it would be unfortunate indeed to fail in the boned
turkey.
The disposition of the furniture, the variety of lemonades, &c.,
was then settled, as well as other minor matters, when the four
ladies sat down to write the invitations on the very elegant and
fanciful note-paper prepared for the occasion.
"The first thing I shall do, Emmeline, will be to write a letter
expressly to Alonzo, to insist upon the confectioner's procuring
the boned turkey."
We shall pass over the labours of the ensuing week, devoted to
the execution of what had been planned. Various were the rumours
floating about Longbridge in the interval; it was asserted by
some persons that a steamboat was to bring to Longbridge all the
fashionable people in New York; that it was to be a sort of
"Mass-Meeting" of the "Aristocracy." By others, all the fiddlers
in New York and Philadelphia were said to be engaged. In fact,
however, nothing was really known about the matter. Mrs. Bibbs
and Mrs. Tibbs had confided all the details to a score of friends
only, and every one of these had, as usual, spread abroad a
different version of the story. We have it, however, on the best
authority, that every day that week a letter in Mrs. Hilson's
handwriting, directed to the most fashionable cook and
confectioner in New York, passed through the Longbridge
post-office, and we happen to know that they were all written
upon the negotiation for the boned turkey, which at that season
it was not easy to procure in perfection.
The eventful evening arrived at length. The fanciful note-papers
had all reached their destination, the pink and green candles
were lighted, the fainting-room was prepared, the kisses and
mottoes had arrived, and though last, surely not least, four
dishes of boned turkey were already on the supper-table. Mrs.
Bibbs and Mrs. Tibbs had gone the rounds with the two ladies of
the house, and admired everything, after which they returned to
the drawing-room. Mrs. Bibbs in blue, and Mrs. Tibbs in pink,
were placed in full array on a sofa. Mrs. Hilson and Miss
Emmeline stationed themselves in a curtseying position, awaiting
their guests. Mr. and Mrs. Clapp, with Miss Patsey and Charlie,
were the first to arrive. Our friend, Patsey, looked pleasant,
good-natured, and neatly dressed, as usual; the silk she wore was
indeed the handsomest thing of the kind she had ever owned--it
was a present from Uncle Josie, who had insisted upon her coming
to his house-warming. Patsey's toilette, however, though so much
more elegant than usual, looked like plainness and simplicity
itself, compared with the gauzes and flowers, the laces and
ribbons of Mrs. Tibbs and Mrs. Bibbs, who were sitting on the
sofa beside her. Presently, a thin, dark, sober-looking young man
walked in at a side-door; it was Alonzo, Mrs. Hilson's husband.
Honest, warm-hearted Mr. Hubbard soon followed, looking as usual,
in a very good humour, and much pleased with the holiday he had
provided for his daughters, and the satisfaction of seeing all
his old friends in his new house, which he had prepared for
himself. If ever there was a man who spoilt his children, it was
Mr. Joseph Hubbard. Had he had sons, it might possibly have been
different; but his wife had been a very silly, very pretty, very
frivolous woman; the daughters resembled her in every respect,
and Mr. Hubbard seemed to have adopted the opinion that women
were never otherwise than silly and frivolous. He loved his
daughters, laughed at their nonsense, was indulgent to their
folly, and let them do precisely as they pleased; which, as he
had made a fortune, it was in his power to do. As for Uncle
Dozie, the bacheler {sic} brother, who had lived all his life
with Mr. Joseph Hubbard, he was already in the drawing-room,
seated in a corner, with folded arms, taking a nap. It was
singular what a talent for napping this old gentleman possessed;
he had been known to doze over a new book, pronounced by the
papers "thrillingly interesting," and "intensely exciting;" he
has slept during a political speech, reported as one continued
stream of enchaining eloquence, delivered amid thunders of
applause; and now, under the blaze of astral lamps, and pink and
green candles, while the musicians were tuning their fiddles, and
producing all sorts of discordant sounds, he was dozing as
quietly as if in his own rocking-chair. Uncle Dozie seldom talked
when he could help it; the chief business and pleasure of his
life consisted in superintending his brother's vegetable-garden;
he had never been known to take a nap among his beets and
cabbages, which he seemed to admire as much. as he did his
nieces. The vegetables, indeed, engrossed so much of his care and
attention, that three times in the course of his life, he had
lost by carelessness a comfortable little independence which his
brother had made for him.
{"astral lamp" = a variety of Argand lamp (the brightest oil lamp
of the period) especially designed to cast its light downward}
The company began to pour in. Mrs. Taylor and the talkative old
friend were among the earliest, and took their seats on the sofa,
near Miss Patsey, Mrs. Bibbs, and Mrs. Tibbs. Adeline, with the
Saratoga fashionables, soon followed; having remained longer in
the dressing-room, in order to wait until each could appear with
a beau to lean on. The Longbridge elite arrived in large numbers;
Uncle Dozie woke up, and Uncle Josie shook hands as his friends
wished him many happy years in his new house. Miss Emmeline and
Mrs. Hilson flitted hither and thither; while the dark and
sober-looking Alonzo occasionally bent his head gently on one
side, to receive some private communications and directions from
his more elegant moiety. No one was received by the ladies of the
house with more fascinating smiles, than a tall, slim Englishman,
with a very bushy head of hair, who had made Mrs. Hilson's
acquaintance at their boarding-house not long since, and being
tired of occupying a third or fourth-rate position in his own
country, was now determined to show off what he thought airs of
the first water, in this. He was just the attendant in whom Mrs.
Hilson gloried.
"I think the West-End is fully represented here, this evening,
Emmeline," said the fair lady as she tripped past her sister,
followed by Captain Kockney, after the rooms were uncomfortably
full.
"Some very pretty women 'ere, Mrs. 'Ilson," observed Captain
Kockney; "that's really a lovely creature just come in, and what
a piece of ugliness it is alongside of her."
"Miss Graham? Yes, she is our great beauty. Shall I introduce
you?"
"Not now, for pity's sake; wait till that ugly face has moved out
of sight."
"Do you think Miss Wyllys so very ugly? Perhaps she is; but she
is one of our country neighbours, and I have seen her so
frequently that I am accustomed to her appearance--indeed we are
quite intimate. When one knows her, her conversation is
excessively delightful; though she wants more association with
city-life to appear to advantage."
"Now, pray don't introduce me there, I beg. I saw too many ugly
women the last season I was at 'ome. Our colonel had three
daughters, 'orrid frights, but of course we had to do the civil
by them. It almost tempted me to sell out; they were parvenues,
too--that made the matter worse, you know."
{"parvenues" = upstarts (French)}
"Oh, yes, I hate parvenoos; I am thoroughly aristocratic in my
nature. Indeed, it is a great misfortune for me that I am so, one
is obliged, in this country, to come so often in contact with
plebeians! I am afraid you must suffer from the same cause, while
travelling in the United States."
"What, from the plebeians? Oh, I made up my mind to that before I
came, you know; I believe I shall enjoy the change for a time.
One doesn't expect anything else from you Yankees; and then I had
a surfeit of aristocracy in London, the last season. We had
half-a-dozen crowned heads there; and first one met them
everywhere in town, you know, and then at every country-house."
"How delightful it must be to live surrounded by royalty in that
way!"
"There you're quite out. It's a great bore; one has to mind their
p's and q's at court, you know--I never go to Windsor if I can
help, it."
"Well, I should never tire of a court--I am thoroughly patrician
in my disposition. I have a good right to such tastes, Captain
Kockney, for I have a great deal of noble blood in my veins."
"Now, really! what family do you belong to?"
"The duke of Percy; a noble family of Scotland. Pa's name is
Joseph P. Hubbard. Don't you pity people who have no nobility in
their families?"
"'Pon my soul, I don't know how a man feels under such
circumstances. It's a queer sensation, I dare say."
"Dr. Van Horne," continued Mrs. Hilson, to a young man who came
up to make his bow to her, "I have a great mind to ask a favour
of you. Will you undertake to bleed me?"
"I should be sorry if you required my services in that way, Mrs.
Hilson."
"Ah, but it would be a real obligation; I want to get rid of all
but my Percy blood. Perhaps you don't know that our family is
distinguished in its descent?"
"From 'old Mother Hubbard,'" thought young Van Horne; but he
merely bowed.
"Yes, our ancestors were dukes of Percy, who were beheaded in
Scotland for being faithful to their king. It is very possible we
might claim the title of a Scotch Peer." Mrs. Hilson had read too
many English novels, not to have a supply of such phrases at
command. "If you could only find the right vein, I would insist
upon your taking away all but my patrician blood."
"Would not the operation leave you too perfect, Mrs. Hilson?"
"Perhaps it might make me vain. But it could scarcely unfit me
more for living in a republic. How I wish we were governed by a
despot!--don't you?"
"Not in the least,"--'but I wish you were,' the young man added,
to himself, as he moved away towards Jane and Elinor, who were in
a corner talking to his sisters. "All the fools in this country
are not travelled fools, as I wish my father would remember," he
continued, as he edged his way through the crowd.
"And he that aye has lived free
May not well know the misery,
The wrath, the strife, the hate, and all,
That's compassed in the name of thrall."
{I have not identified this verse}
"You have mustered quite a pretty set of little plebeians 'ere
to-night. Now, that's quite a nice-looking little creature
standing by the door," continued Captain Kockney; "what do you
call her?"
"Her name is Taylor--Adeline Taylor; they belong to the
aristocracy too; shall I introduce you?"
"Is she married? If she is, I've no objections; but if she isn't,
I had rather not. It's such a bore, you know, talking to
girls--bread-and-butter misses!"
"How ungallant you are!"
"Ungallant! Why? I suppose you know it's a settled thing that
none of US talk to girls in society. Most of them are so
milk-and-water, and the rest are so deep, they're always fancying
a man means something. Why, last spring we cut Lord Adolphus Fitz
Flummery, of OURS, just because he made a fool of himself,
dangling after the girls."
"But don't gentlemen ever speak to an unmarried lady in England?"
"The saps do--but not your knowing ones. We make an exception
though, in favour of a regular beauty, such as that little girl
on the other side of the room; that Thomson girl, didn't you call
her?"
"Miss Graham--you are difficult to please if nothing else will
suit you. But of course it is natural for aristocratic minds to
be fastidious."
"To be sure it is, that's what makes us English aristocrats so
exclusive. If that little Graham girl comes in our way though,
I've no objection to making her acquaintance. And if you have got
a great fortune here to-night, I'll make an exception for
her--you may introduce me. Is there such a thing as an heiress in
the room?"
"An heiress? No, I believe not--but Miss Taylor is quite a
fortune."
"Is she? Well then, you may introduce me there too. We have to do
the civil to the rich girls, you know; because after a while most
of us are driven into matrimony. That's the governor, I take it,
near the door."
"The governor? Oh, no, our governor does not live at Longbridge."
"Doesn't he? Well, I thought you introduced him just now as the
governor, and I fancied some one called him 'Ubbard; that's the
governor's name, isn't it?"
"No, indeed. That's Pa you are speaking of."
"Just so--that is what I said. You call your paternities PA, do
you?--we always call the old fellows governors, in England."
"Do you call your father Gov. Kockney? I did not know that
governor was an English title; it sounds very plebeian in my
ears."
"Now, what DO you mean? ha! ha!--you are delightful. You put me
in mind of a good scene at the drawing-room, last June. Though,
perhaps, you don't know what the drawing-room is?"
"Oh, yes; I know that it means Court. My tastes are so exclusive,
that I may say I have lived in English High-Life from the time I
married, and became intimate with Mrs. Bagman. I feel quite at
home in such scenes, for I read every novel that comes out with
Lords and Ladies in it. What were you going to tell me about
Court?"
The story was interrupted by Miss Hubbard, who tripped across the
room to carry her sister off with her.
"Now you are not going, I hope? Why not stay 'ere; I am sure this
sofa is the most comfortable thing in the room."
"I must go to receive some friends of mine, come over expressly
from the city."
"Pray, keep me clear of the cits! But now, if you will go, just
leave me your bouquet as a a consolation. Thank you.--Oh, yes,
I'll take good care of it."
"I hope you will, for it's a ten dollar bouquet, and I'm very
proud of it. You must not steal a single flower, mind."
"Mustn't I?--Do you dare me?" and the agreeable Captain began to
pull out several flowers. Mrs. Hilson, however, was hurried away.
Mr. Taylor, Mr. Hubbard, and Alonzo moved towards the sofa where
she had been sitting.
"Do you think that Stewart will be chosen President of the
Franklin Insurance?" inquired Mr. Hubbard.
"I think not, sir--he rather mismanaged the affairs of the
Hoboken Bank. Lippincott will be the President, I take it. He has
magnificent talents for business. You know he has purchased the
thirty lots in 50th street, that were sold at auction,
yesterday."
"A good purchase, I should say."
"How's the Hoboken stock now?" inquired Alonzo. A murmuring about
'five per cent.'--'six per cent.'--'par'--'premium,' followed,
and was only interrupted by the approach of young Van Horne and
Elinor.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Wyllys," said Mr. Hubbard, making room
for her. "Oh, yes, Mr. Van Horne, here is a place for you, and
another couple besides. Whom are you looking for?"
"Charles Hubbard, sir; I want him for a vis-a-vis."
"Charlie is already placed, I see; but here is a gentleman;
perhaps you would like to dance, sir?"--addressing Captain
Kockney, who was still in possession of the sofa and the flowers.
"I hope my daughter has introduced you to some of the young
ladies."
"Now, really; if I am to dance, I prefer Mrs. 'Ilson."
And, accordingly, the Captain, by no means sorry to be forced to
dance, rose with a victim-like look, half strode, half sidled
towards Mrs. Hilson, and putting his elbow in her face by way of
an invitation, led her to the quadrille. The contrast between
these two couples, placed opposite to each other, was striking,
and yet common enough in a mixed ballroom. Captain Kockney was
desperately nonchalant, his partner full of airs and graces;
their conversation was silly, ignorant, and conceited, beyond the
reach of imagination--such things must be heard to be believed.
Young Van Horne was clever, and appeared to less advantage in
dancing than in most things. Elinor the reader knows already; it
was a pleasure to follow her as she moved about with the happy
grace which belonged to her nature. Her partner, half in joke,
half in earnest, was engaging her interest with his father in
behalf of the visit to Europe. Elinor promised to do all in her
power; and they chatted away cheerfully and gaily, for they were
young and light-hearted; and yet, even in a ball-room, they meant
what they said, and knew what they were talking about, for both
were sensible and well educated. Jane and young Bernard were next
to Mrs. Hilson; Adeline and Charlie Hubbard next to Elinor. Miss
Taylor had declared that she would allow no one but herself to
fill the place opposite to Jane, causing by her decision no
little flirtation, and rattling merriment; but, of course, this
was just what the young lady aimed at. These two pretty,
thoughtless creatures, the belle and the beauty, held a middle
position between Mrs. Hilson and Elinor. Frivolous as they were,
there was more latent good about them, than could be found in the
'city lady,' who was one frothy compound of ignorant vanity, and
vulgar affectation. The class she represented was fortunately as
small in its extreme folly, as that to which Elinor belonged, in
its simple excellence.
Any one, indifferent to dancing or speculation, seeking amusement
as a looker-on, would have been struck, at Uncle Josie's
house-warming, with the generally feminine and pleasing
appearance of the women; there were few faces, indeed, that could
be called positively ugly. Then, again, one remarked, that
puerile as the general tone might be, mixed as the company was,
there were no traces whatever of coarseness, none of that bold
vulgarity which is so revolting.
There was a certain proportion of elderly men collected on the
occasion--they were seen, with a few exceptions, standing in
knots, talking great speculations and little politics, and
looking rather anxious for supper, and the boned turkey. Of the
mothers and chaperons, who filled the sofas, as representatives
of a half-forgotten custom, some were watching the flirtations,
others looking on and enjoying the gaiety of the young people.
Both fathers and mothers, however, were very decidedly in the
minority, and, according to American principles, they allowed the
majority undisputed sway. The young people, in general, held
little communication with their elders, and amused themselves
after their own fashion; the young ladies' bouquets afforded a
favourite subject for small-talk; they were all carefully
analysed--not botanically, but according to the last edition of
that elegant work, the Language of Flowers, which afforded, of
course, a wide field for the exercise of gallantry and
flirtation.
{Probably, Frederic Shoberl (1775-1853), "The Language of
Flowers," (numerous editions, some published by the Cooper
family's regular publisher in Philadelphia)--but there were many
similar books on the "poetic meaning" of different flowers}
Among the dancers, the four young ladies we have pointed out were
acknowledged the most conspicuous. According to Mrs. Tibbs and
Mrs. Bibbs, Jane's was the most beautiful face in the room,
although there were two or three competitors for the title;
Adeline was pronounced the most successful of the rival belles;
Mrs. Hilson the most elegant and airy; Elinor the plainest of the
gay troop. Probably, most of those who thought about the matter,
would have decided as the Longbridge ladies did--although, on the
point of Mrs. Hilson's elegance, many would have protested. There
was one person, at least, who followed Elinor's graceful figure
with partial interest; Miss Agnes found so much that was pleasing
to her, in the fresh, youthful appearance of her adopted
child--in the simple good-taste of her white dress--in the
intelligence and character of her expression--in her engaging
manner, that she forgot to regret her want of beauty; she no
longer wondered, as she had sometimes done, that Harry should so
early have appreciated her niece. Those who knew Elinor
thoroughly, loved her for the excellence of her character;
strangers neglected her for any pretty face at her side; but
every one thrown in her society, must have acknowledged the charm
of her manner. This pleasing manner, however, so frank, yet so
feminine, so simple, yet so graceful, was only the natural result
of her character, and her very want of beauty. She was never
troubled by the fluttering hopes and fears of vanity; she never
seemed to think of effect; when in society, her attention was
always given in the simplest and most amiable way to others.
Forgetful of self, she was a stranger to every forward
affectation, to every awkwardness of mauvaise honte; her good
sense, her gaiety, a sweet disposition, and an active mind were
allowed full play, under no other restraints than those of a good
education; those of principle, and those of youthful, womanly
modesty. Such was Elinor in the eyes of her aunt, but it must not
be supposed that this was the general opinion of Uncle Josie's
guests; by no means; many remarks were made upon Miss Wyllys's
being so decidedly plain; and even her dancing was thought
inferior by some of the company to the more laboured graces of
Mrs. Hilson, or the downright indifference of Adeline: as for
Jane, she unfortunately never danced in time.
{"mauvaise honte" = bashfulness, false shame (French)}
At the proper moment supper was announced--the boned turkey
appeared in full glory. "What is that?"--"Boned turkey"--"Shall I
give you boned turkey?" "I'll thank you for a little boned
turkey"--were sounds heard in every direction. It was very
evident the boned turkey was fully appreciated, and gave great
satisfaction--thus putting the finishing touch to the pleasures
of Uncle Josie's house-warming. We must not forget to mention the
mottoes, which were handed about in silver baskets, for, as
usual, they caused many tender and witty speeches. This was a
part of the entertainment in which Adeline delighted; Jane seemed
quite satisfied with it, and Mrs. Hilson was in her element among
these little bits of pink paper and sentiment.
Before the supper was more than half over, however, the rattling
of spoons and plates, the requests for "boned turkey," and the
flirting over mottoes were suddenly interrupted, and everything
hushed for a moment, by calls for a doctor! "Where is Dr. Van
Horne?" "Have you seen Dr. A?" "There is Dr. B."
"Alonzo, the fainting-room; remember," said Mrs. Hilson.
But it proved to be none of the company who required a physician.
A stranger, a sailor, some one said, who had been for the last
week at a low tavern opposite, had been seized with a fit; Dr.
Van Horne was soon found, and hastened to the relief of the sick
man. The interruption was soon forgotten; the mottoes and boned
turkey were again in demand. Dr. Van Horne did not return,
however; his family went home without him; and Mrs. Clapp, on
looking around for her husband, found that he also had
disappeared.
"I saw Clapp going into the tavern last evening," observed Uncle
Josie. "Perhaps this poor fellow is some client of his; he may
have gone to look after him."
Mrs. Clapp was obliged to ask Uncle Dozie to accompany her home;
and as he was no somnambulist, with all his napping, he carried
his niece safely to her own door.
Miss Wyllys was one of those who left the house immediately after
supper. Adeline and Jane ran up stairs before Elinor and
herself--like the Siamese twins, each with an arm encircling the
other's waist. The close intimacy between Jane and Adeline
continued to surprise Elinor. She began to think there must be
something more than common, something of the importance of a
mystery which drew them so often together, causing so many
confidential meetings. Even when the two girls were in society,
she could not but observe that Adeline often made some allusion,
or whispered some remark that seemed both pleasing and
embarrassing to Jane. Miss Taylor was evidently playing
confidante, and occasionally Jane appeared to wish her less open
and persevering in the affair. As for Mrs. Graham, she was too
much occupied with the care of her younger children to pay much
attention to her daughter's intimacies. She rather disliked
Adeline and all her family, and Mr. Graham had a real antipathy
for Mr. Taylor; still Jane was allowed to do as other young girls
about her, select whom she pleased for her associates. Mrs.
Graham was one of those mothers who devote themselves with great
assiduity to the care of their childrens' {sic} bodies, their
food and raiment, pains and aches--leaving all anxiety for their
minds to the school-mistress, and their characters to themselves.
With the eldest daughter this plan had succeeded very well;
Louisa Graham was clever and well-disposed, and had taken of her
own accord what is called a good turn; and Mr. Robert Hazlehurst
had every reason to congratulate himself upon his choice of a
wife. Mrs. Graham seemed to take it as a matter of course that
the same system would succeed equally well with all her family.
But Jane's disposition was very different from her sister
Louisa's; she had no strength of character, and was easily led by
those about her. The greatest fault in her disposition was
thought by her family to be indolence; but Miss Wyllys sometimes
wished that she had less selfishness, and more frankness.
{"Siamese twins" = Chang and Eng (1811-1874), born joined
together in Thailand (Siam), of Chinese parents, who were
exhibited in America for many years by P.T. Barnum; the condition
was named after them}
Elinor was not a little startled at something which passed in
Miss Hubbard's dressing-room, between Jane and Miss Taylor, and
which she accidentally overheard, before she was aware the
conversation was confidential.
"Don't pretend any longer, Jane, that you didn't know it,"
whispered Adeline, as they were stooping together over a bundle
of hoods and shawls. Jane made no answer. "Now, confess that you
knew he was serious before you left Paris."
"I did not think much of it for some time," said Jane.
"Well, I supposed from your letters that you knew long ago that
he was desperately in love with you. Trust me, we'll settle it
all between us."
"Oh, hush," said Jane, "there is somebody coming--I know it's
wrong--"
"Nonsense--wrong indeed! I should like to know where is the great
harm if he does break his engagement?"
Elinor moved away when she found the conversation was meant to be
private. But she had unintentionally heard enough to make her
anxious for Jane. "Was not Adeline leading her into difficulty?"
She felt uneasy, and thought of nothing else during her drive
home. It would not do to consult Miss Wyllys; but she determined
to speak to Jane herself, the first time she saw her.
Unfortunately, her cousin was going to New York, and nothing
could be done until she returned to pass a fortnight at
Wyllys-Roof before going to town for the winter.